Ethan Martin and his mother live a simple life in a small Southern town... with a twist: She makes dresses to pay the bills and he helps out as best he can.

Ethan’s piano teacher gets a pleasant surprise.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck two with a solemn chime just as the screen door creaked open and closed. Mrs. Karen Gilkey, dignified and upright in her modest navy day dress, paused in the front hallway and smoothed her gloves. She always dressed as if she might be called upon to judge a recital at any moment, her gray-streaked hair pinned into a flawless chignon, a small gold brooch on her collar the only concession to ornament.

Penelope appeared from the sitting room like a hostess gliding on air. “Karen, my dear,” she called out, her voice musical with delight, “you’re right on time, as ever.”

Karen smiled and extended her gloved hand. “You know me, Penelope. Tardiness is a sin next to slouching and flat-fingered playing.”

From the parlor, Colleen called, “Welcome, Mrs. Gilkey! Your student will be right with you--we’re running just a teensy bit behind today.”

“Oh?” Karen raised a single eyebrow, her impatience already evident. Another day, another boy who doesn’t want to practice. Oh well…

“I can be patient,” she said, her smile insincere at best.

Penelope leaned in with the kind of smirk only retired teachers are allowed to wear. “Forgive us, but--well, you’ll understand in a moment,” she whispered.

And then, as if summoned by magic, a small figure appeared at the far end of the hallway. The soft patter of ballet slippers preceded the shy silhouette of a young girl, framed in the doorway with hesitant grace.

Ethan had been transformed. Though his teacher hadn’t quite grasped that… yet.

The delicate white tea dress--one of Colleen’s creations, of course--with its yellow rosebud pattern looked vintage, with puffed chiffon sleeves and scalloped lace along a low cut neckline that left much of the boy’s chest bare. A narrow sash tied in a wide bow at the back gave the skirt an elegant flare. Beneath the hem, layers of stiff petticoats supported the silhouette, and the sheen of the frilly white knee-length socks caught the light with every nervous step.

But it was the hair that completed the vision. The blonde wig had been painstakingly curled into soft, springy ringlets, tied on either side with overly large pastel yellow satin bows. The youth’s cheeks were subtly flushed, either from rouge or embarrassment--or both.

Karen gasped at the sight. It took her a moment to regain her composure. She looked at the two women beside her, then back at the feminine child before her.

“Why, hello there. I was expecting Ethan, so who are--”

Colleen gave a little laugh. “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met my daughter, have you? Karen, this is Emily.”

“Your… daughter?” The music teacher blinked. Shen then smiled, her lip curling up with delight as she realized what she was seeing. “Oh my… Emily, is it?”

Ethan gave a small curtsy, his hands trembling just slightly at his sides. “Yes, Mrs. Gilkey,” he said softly. “I… I’m ready for my lesson.”

Karen turned to Colleen and Penelope and mouthed, adorable. Both nodded, pleased.

Colleen and Penelope took their seats in the parlor, forming a quiet but attentive audience as Ethan approached the upright piano--he gracefully and quickly slid his hands under his skirts as he took his seat, his posture unusually perfect. Clearly, someone had been coached.

“Let’s begin with the C major scale, shall we?” Karen prompted, taking position on the bench beside the cross-dressed boy with a practiced air.

Ethan’s slim fingers fluttered hesitantly over the keys. It was a simple exercise, and yet his pale pink fingernails--which his mother had painted especially for this occasion--made the performance oddly mesmerizing. The soft clack of the keys under his smooth, curved fingers gave the illusion that he had always been a girl taught to play with decorum and care.

“Better,” Karen noted, adjusting his right elbow with a firm but gentle touch. “Much better than last time. Lift your wrist slightly. There. Again.”

The notes came clearer this time, more confident.

From her seat on the sofa Penelope said softly, “Emily, what do we say when someone helps us?”

Ethan hesitated, his fingers still resting on the keys.

“Emily,” Penelope repeated, gently but firmly.

The cross-dressed boy looked over his shoulder. “Th–Thank you, Mrs. Gilkey. Sorry, Mrs. Gilkey. Sorry, Auntie.”

Karen chuckled, amused and utterly charmed. She glanced over at the two women and bit her lips with delight. “That’s all right, dear. And you’re welcome. Now, let’s try that Satie piece again. Your mother said you’ve been practicing and I want to see how far you’ve come.”

As the lesson continued, something shifted. Ethan, in his disguise, seemed to settle into the role. His playing improved, his posture remained impeccable, and when Karen asked him questions, he answered promptly--and remembered his manners.

Karen smiled in quiet wonder. “This is... quite the transformation.”

Colleen murmured, “He’s always more focused… on everything, it seems, when he’s dressed properly.”

Penelope added, “It’s as if Emily’s fingers know how to play, even if Ethan’s don’t.”

And at the piano, the blushing boy simply nodded as the piece ended.

The final arpeggio fell into silence.

For a moment, only the ticking of the hallway clock could be heard as Karen Gilkey regarded her student. Her hand still rested lightly on the edge of the piano, one gloved finger tapping a silent tempo on the lacquered wood.

“Well then,” she said at last. “That was the cleanest run-through of Mr. Satie’s Gymnopédie I’ve heard in some time. This is not normally something I’d recommend for my younger students, but your mother suggested it--”

“I have my reasons,” Colleen said. “It’s a favorite of my sister. I… we want to surprise her.”

“So I understand.” Karen nodded. “It’s not perfect, but still… amazing. I think your sister will be pleased. Well done, Emily!”

The cross-dressed boy--still seated neatly, knees together and hands folded in his lap--blushed so deeply that the pink in his cheeks rivaled the bows atop his ringlets. “Thank you, Mrs. Gilkey,” he whispered.

Karen smiled kindly, but with a touch of the knowing severity all good teachers possess. “Tell me something, dear--do you practice more now than you used to?”

Ethan nodded shyly.

“And are you more focused now that you’ve--how shall I put it--adopted a more disciplined presentation?”

A pause. Then another nod, more reluctant. “Yes, ma’am.”

Penelope, sipping her tea like a duchess enjoying a private play, leaned toward Colleen. “Isn’t she precious when she’s honest?”

Colleen laughed softly. “She is. And so polite these days. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Ethan--Emily, he reminded himself--turned on the bench to face them, keeping his knees demurely pressed together. “Yes, Mother. I try.”

Karen removed one glove and smiled. “Well, I for one am thrilled. In all the years I’ve taught piano, I can count on one hand the number of boys who ever took instruction seriously. And I must admit, Emily shows more promise than Ethan ever did.”

The room went still.

Ethan blinked. The words had landed like a snowflake with the weight of a brick.

Karen, realizing the line she’d just crossed, looked down at him with a half-smile and softened her tone. “What I mean, dear, is that you seem happier when you’re playing this way. More refined. It’s as though the music suits you.”

Ethan looked down at his petticoats. At his pearlescent pink painted fingernails.

And then he said, softly, “Maybe it does.”

Penelope beamed. “Now there’s a good girl.”

Karen nodded with finality. “Then it’s settled. I’d like Emily to be my student going forward. If that’s agreeable to you, Colleen?”

Colleen nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. I think we can all agree she’s thriving. Don’t you agree, darling?”

Ethan's hands fidgeted in his lap. Part of him wanted to object--to remind everyone that it was Ethan, and not Emily, who had done the playing, that this was all just a strange game. But another part--the part who liked the feel of satin against his skin, who felt oddly proud when he curtsied without stumbling … who liked what he saw in the mirror--that part knew quite well there was no use fighting.

Especially when they were all smiling at him like that.

“I... I understand,” he said. “I mean, yes, Mother.”

Using her ungloved hand, Karen patted Ethan’s bare shoulder affectionately. “This has been a delightful surprise. But don’t get lazy, all right, young lady? I expect to hear progress next week.”

“Yes, Mrs. Gilkey.”

Colleen cleared her throat and gave her son the stare.

Ethan sighed and took his cue. “Sorry, Mother,” he whispered as he stood up. He addressed his teacher once more, primly and precisely plucking the hem of his dress and performing a perfect curtsy. “Thank you, Mrs. Gilkey. I’ll do my best.”

The music teacher gasped, then bit her lip. How does a twelve year old boy know how to do that, she wondered.

“You are most welcome, Emily. And I’m sure you will.”

Colleen touched the music teacher’s arm. “Do you have time for tea? There’s fresh lemon cookies. And you’ll get to see Emily’s other talents if you stay.”

Karen Gilkey looked at her watch and nodded. “Yes, my next lesson isn’t until later. I think I’d like that. Very much.” Her eyes twinkled at the prospect of seeing what else her student could do.

Penelope clucked her tongue. “Excellent! This will be fun.” She waved her hand as if she were the queen making a decree. “Off you go, Emily, and get everything ready. Let’s have those yummy cookies you baked this morning. But first, put on an apron, you silly thing. You don’t want to ruin your new frock.”

Ethan’s face reddened. “Yes, Auntie Penelope.”

As he turned to leave, his petticoats gave a little swish that made the three ladies chuckle. Karen looked over at Colleen and Penelope and raised a brow. “You ladies are miracle workers.”

Colleen smiled modestly. Penelope was more proud. “Oh no, my dear. We simply gave him the right setting, the right music… and a little push in the proper direction.”

The music teacher grinned. She couldn’t wait to tell her girlfriend about this.

Next up: Mama’s Boy